


There is no you (There's only me)

by hereticalvision



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Hustler, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereticalvision/pseuds/hereticalvision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian can't stand being without Justin; he pays Blake to let him pretend.<br/>[NB: Blake is the hustler from 3.01, not the Blake paired with Ted]<br/>Prompt: I just made you up to hurt myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is no you (There's only me)

The first time, the hustler told Brian his name before he could cut him off with his usual, curt, "It doesn't matter." But, of course, it _did_. It mattered that his name wasn't Justin, it mattered that his body was thicker and his limbs not as pliant and that the noises he made were wrong, and Brian found that the only moment when he'd really been able to pretend was when he'd run his hand through the blond hair, before the fuck had even started. But the moment was the most comfort he'd had since Justin left with Ethan. Not enough; better than nothing.

 

 _Brian, it's Michael, the shiner's clearing up so if you want to…_  
click

 

The second time, Brian was on E and if the sensations were off the E helped ensure that they were enhanced, at least. He fucked the hustler from behind, angry that the texture was wrong, that the scent was wrong. But the harder Brian fucked him the more he moaned, and that was like Justin, too.

 

 _Brian, it's Lindsay – Gus wants to see you. Will you call me back? I know you feel like we took Justin's side because we invited Ethan to the party, but…_  
click

 

The third time, Brian dragged Blake into the shower and used all the things Justin had left behind on him – shampoo, shower gel, body lotion, until he smelled as close to right as Brian could get him, and then Brian fucked him from behind with his nose buried in Justin's hair. Blake's hair.

 

 _Look, you little asshole, you can't avoid Sunshine forever you…_  
click

 

The fourth time was two days after the third time whereas before Brian had always left a week between appointments. After the fuck, hating himself, Brian asked if Blake would stay the night. Blake smirked and said, "The Boyfriend Experience?" Brian had been furious, had thrown him out of the loft. That was a word he hadn't even been able to give Justin and Blake had taken it as though it belonged to him. Brian stood with both hands on the loft door, shaking with some supressed emotion that he kept telling himself was anger.

 

 _Brian? Vance. Where have you been?_  
click

 

Brian had to pay Blake double to get him to come back. Brian wasn't surprised; he'd scared him. He'd scared himself.

He wondered if the tactics that had worked on Justin would work on Blake. Would dissuade him from making assumptions, would let him know his place. But he wasn't about to take a hustler to the backroom, wasn't going to let his reputation take that kind of a hit. Nor could he bring himself to share Justin, even a fake Justin, with a third party. Not since Justin had left. So date night had to be called off. That meant that Fridays were a time for tricking. Brian wondered if Blake would argue with him about it, then wondered why he'd want him to, then wondered if he really was going insane.

 

 _Bri? We're going to Woody's tonight if you…_  
click

 

As time went on, Brian's instructions became more explicit. When he heard the elevator, he opened the loft door just a crack so that Blake – no, Justin – could slide inside as though he belonged there.

"You're late," Brian said, glancing at the clock which read 3.10am.

Blake looked at him in a question and Brian raised a prompting eyebrow.

"Sorry, Daphne's having a crisis," said Blake. Justin. Blake. He toed off his sneakers and left them lying by the couch – a habit Brian abhorred.

"I'll let you make it up to me," Brian purred, advancing.

Blue eyes looked up at him. The voice hitched in that so-familiar way: "Bri-an." Justin always could turn Brian's name into a prayer, an invitation, an invocation with one melting tone, and Blake doesn't quite have it down but in any case it's better than before.

 

 _Brian, where the fuck are you? I haven't seen you in a week. If you don't call me back I swear…_  
click

 

Blake had been there for about an hour one night when someone started pounding on the door. Brian cursed, pulled out, and went to open it with a cushion shielding his wilting erection.

Justin.

Brian looked at him, no idea what to say.

Justin smiled nervously. "The others… You haven't been answering your calls."

"Busy busy," Brian said, no idea what to do. Justin at the door, the other Justin in his bed.

Justin snorted. "Fucking your way through the internet as usual?"

Brian's fingers itched for a cigarette, itched to reach out and touch the Justin in front of him, the only one who was ever quite right. But, "How's Ian?"

Justin's lip curled. "Ethan's fine."

"Does he know you're here?"

Justin's face said it all.

A voice from the bedroom. "Threesomes are extra."

Brian closed his eyes in defeat. Justin's mouth dropped open. "Another hustler? For fuck's sake Brian…" His voice trailed off as Blake stepped down from the raised platform, the altar of Brian's sex. He took in the blond hair, the build, the similarities. His face went white.

"Brian, what…?"

"Justin, go home," Brian snapped.

"Justin," Blake repeated as though the world suddenly made sense.

"Brian," Justin said, that familiar hitch in the middle no longer comforting but instead making Brian's skin crawl. "Brian…" He couldn't seem to force out another word. If Blake's world had snapped into focus, Justin looked as though his was crumbling.

"Just leave, Justin," Brian snapped. "You're good at that."

Without waiting another moment, Brian slammed the loft door shut.

 

 _Brian. Fuck, Brian, I don't even… Justin called me. He called _me_ for fuck's sake, that's how worried about you he is. Brian, please-_  
click

 

Brian was too weak to pull away when Blake reached out cautiously to stroke his hair. Normally he would have thrown him out, thrown out anyone who stood a chance of seeing through him, but in that moment he needed the comfort too badly.

"Come back to bed," Blake said softly, leading him up the stairs.

In the morning, Blake put on the sweater Justin had left behind and when Brian said, "It's up to you where you want to be," Justin answered, "I'm here."

~fin


End file.
